


More than Transport

by CumberCougars (lunacatd)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Molly on top, Not Beta Read, PWP, Sherlock in Lingerie, Sherlolly - Freeform, f/m - Freeform, sherlolly smutember
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 22:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8227361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunacatd/pseuds/CumberCougars
Summary: Sherlock discovers a sensual side due to a surprising gift from Molly





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [All Sherlollians](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=All+Sherlollians).



> My first Sherlolly fanfic. Wrote it for the Sherlolly Smutember challenge. Hope you like it :D.
> 
> Feed back is very much appreciated.

Sherlock found the box on the bed. It was white, of quality board and bore the logo of a high end boutique that specialized in custom made garments. On the lid was stuck a simple yellow sticky note with his pathologist’s familiar writing.

“Open me.”

Sherlock’s brow arched with curiosity, what was Molly up to, he wondered. Carefully he lifted the lid, not wanting to set off any booby traps, for one never knew with Molly Hooper as she could be quite the prankster when the mood suited her. Finding layers of white tissue paper, he peeled those aside to reveal a puddle of pale pink satin and black lace with a small folded piece of paper on top. He unfolded the note and read the message.

“Wear me.”

This time his brow wrinkled in consternation. Wear me... Wear what? Sherlock reached in and picked up the bit of satin. It unfurled from his fingers into a delicate slip the colour of a warm blush, the edges trimmed with intricate black lace. As he held it up by its thin straps, he realized it was much too big for Molly to wear. Stepping over to the mirror on the door of the wardrobe, he held it up against his body and sure enough it looked like a fit. Sherlock pulled the rest of the outfit out of the box and laid the garments on the bed; the silky slip, a pair of sheer black stockings with black lace tops, and matching black lace panties with (he noted) strategically placed stretch panels. 

He stood there contemplating the lace and satiny pieces unsure of how to proceed. Ever since he and Molly had come together exploring the sexual aspects of their relationship had been more satisfying than he could have imagined. Molly was both enthusiastic and imaginative and there did not seem to be a limit to their mutual hunger for one another. Where she led he was glad to follow, though this felt a little out of his depth. As he pondered this conundrum, his eyes wandered over the items on the bed once more and that’s when he noticed that there was another folded note at the bottom of the box, “Please?” it said, with a little heart drawn beside it. How could he refuse now, really.

Checking the time Sherlock noted he had about one hour before Molly was due home. First things first, he decided, a shower. After luxuriating under the hot water, he dried himself and rubbed a touch of leave-in conditioner into his still damp hair. The product would define his curls and keep them from frizzing. Wouldn’t do to look like he had stuck his fingers into a light socket while he lived out Molly’s chosen fantasy, now, would it?

Dropping the used towels on the bathroom floor, he walked back into the bedroom. After careful consideration he picked up the panties. Warily he stretched the scrap of black lace, it seemed they would be a fit, if a tad snug, but then he guessed that was the point. Without further ado, he bent over and stepped into the lacy item, carefully pulled it up his long legs to settle it in place. The lace was soft, yet as it stretched round his buttocks and privates, it roughened a little in texture. Sherlock arranged the fabric around his scrotum and penis as comfortably as possible then hooked his fingertips round the edging of the backside to fit it round his buttocks.

He never thought much about his body; it never amounted to more than transport to him, a useful tool to conduct his mind around. His forays into sensuality were limited to good Whiskey, tobacco and the occasional meal. Everything else, even the drugs, were tools to keep boredom at bay. The closest he had come to physical pleasure for its own sake was ... well never. The satisfaction of solving an intricate crime, or foiling a worthy opponent came close and these days the very engaging sex life he indulged in with Molly, therefore the only time his body came into play was when he was giving pleasure to or was being pleasured by Molly. Now, however, putting on the panties seems to have stirred something up.

At first he thought it was how the fabric felt, how the lace scratched lightly against his skin, against his privates which had begun to stir with interest. But it wasn’t only that. Sherlock examined himself in the mirror, turning this way and that. There was something to be said about the contrast of the feminine style of the undergarment versus the masculine make up of his body, his defined muscular thighs, well formed buttocks, and now growing bulge... yes... that was interesting. Sherlock turned and reached for the stockings.

He sat on the edge of the bed and bent his knee to rest his foot on the bed. Gently he rolled on one then the other. They were so sheer and delicate he was scared he would ruin them. It wasn’t until he had both stockings on that he realized he had been holding his breath. With a deep sigh of relief he stood up and adjusted the stay-up tops which settled about mid thigh. 

In front of the mirror once again, he inspected the results. Again he was pleasantly surprised, not only did he enjoy the silkiness of the stockings against his skin, he also liked how the sheerness of them rubbed the hair on his legs. And the visual effect, the way his thighs and calves became more defined by the translucent black, how it contrasted against the paleness of the skin left exposed in his upper thighs giving an illusion of vulnerability and inviting touch. He could not help but follow the path his eyes had taken with his own hands. Bending over he traced his fingers from his ankles to his shins, cradled the back of his knees to then curve over his thighs, to at last dip in between so that his thumbs brushed the underside of his balls. He then cupped his tumescent cock still curled up in the black lace. It was already oh so sensitive. Sherlock bit his bottom lip, the air rushing in and out of his nose, and his heart, it was racing already and Molly wasn’t even home yet. That woman had bewitched him!

After a calming breath, which didn’t work that well, he grabbed the last item of clothing, the pale peach nightie. Lifting his arms up, he slid it over his head. The slip was so dainty it flowed down his body like a fresh breeze, and fluttered down to barely cover his buttocks. The coolness of the cloth against his overly warm skin immediately caused his nipples to pebble (or were there they already thus?) so that they showed clearly beneath the pale pink satin. Again Sherlock found his hands touching his body. Even when he masturbated he never touched himself this much. What was it about these garments that made him want to explore his body’s reactions, for react it did. His hands smoothed the satin over his torso while his mind analyzed and catalogued all the sensations; like how it felt to rub his nipples through the fabric, or how the stretched lace massaged into his buttocks, or how the slip swished around his hips when swayed them side to side. That’s when he heard the door to the flat open. 

The familiar steps that followed stopped at the bedroom door.

“Oh Sherlock, you look absolutely ravishing.” 

He felt himself blush at Molly’s breathless compliment. 

“Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be right back,” she said as she grabbed a few things from the dresser. “Goodness, you look hot,” she gave him a quick smile before dashing into the bathroom.

As she had darted past him, Sherlock caught sight of something on the dresser, stepping closer he picked up a small pot. Flipping the lid open, he dipped in the pad of his pinkie, then dabbed the pale gloss on his plump bottom lip. Perfect.

The door to the bathroom opened, and there stood his Molly. She had changed into a white ribbed cotton tank and cotton underpants. The garments where plain, and masculine in style, the antithesis of his outfit, and served to emphasize the femininity of her form. Her every curve was lovingly and deliciously delineated by the basic simplicity of the white undergarments. He could not wait to lay his hands and mouth on her. However what really took his breath away was the unadulterated hunger in her expression. Her large brown eyes, devoured him shamelessly, her lips parted delicately to reveal hints of pearly teeth and pink tongue. He swallowed with anticipation.

“Let’s take a good look at you my Beauty.”Molly practically growled as she moved close to him. 

Since when did Molly growl? She purred once in a while, but never growled... then she was circling him, her hands instigating ripples of sensation anywhere she touched him. His body had never felt so stimulated. 

“Thank you for wearing this, Sherlock. You look more gorgeous than I imagined.” Her eyes met his on the reflection her love for him generously manifest and a matching swell of warmth grew within him. 

“Do you like the way this looks on you?” she asked.

“Surprisingly, yes,” Sherlock answered meeting her gaze in the mirror, allowing himself a little smirk. 

“And now my dear boy, the fun begins.” 

Her fingers intertwined with the curls at the nape of his neck and pulled him down. Their mouths met, but where he was expecting a tender meeting of lips, her mouth opened, and her tongue licked across his bottom lip. 

“Mmmm... strawberry...” she murmured, then her fingers gripped his hair tight, tugging at the roots painfully.

Sherlock moaned taken aback, and her tongue invaded his mouth as her body pressed to his in all the right places. Just as he caught up enough to bring his arms around her waist, she stepped back.

“On the bed, Sherlock, on your belly. It is time I ate you alive.” The feral smile that accompanied these words turned the warmth inside Sherlock to searing heat as he hurried to obey his darling Molly.

Sherlock lay on his stomach. He didn’t have to wait for long as Molly’s weight sunk the mattress next to him. His mind buzzed in anticipation as it tried and failed to deduce her next move. He was completely out of his comfort zone, yet his trust in her was complete.

Molly straddled him at his waist, laid herself atop his back, took his wrists in her hands and stretched his arms up on the bed above his head.

“Rules of engagement,” she instructed into his ear, “all the active touching from now on will be done by me.” Her voice was soft, her breath warm and moist. “You will follow my directions, but if things get too intense, your safeword is ‘violin’.” She continued, her hips rocking against him to emphasise each word. 

“I won’t need a safeword.” Sherlock objected, trying not to let what she was doing cloud his mind.

‘Sherlock...” Molly cautioned, stopping all her movements immediately in warning.

“Alright,” he conceded, “my safeword is violin.”

“That’s my good boy.” Molly placed light kisses on the side of his throat as she pulled back dragging her nails along his arms, shoulders, and down his back over the pale pink satin slip, then she moved off of him causing Sherlock to hum in disappointment. “Patience my Beauty, I plan to enjoy every inch of you tonight.”

Next thing he knew, he felt Molly move on the mattress until she had nudged her knees between his feet. As he parted his legs a bit to give her space, her hands captured one of his ankles and pulled it up so his knee bent. Her hands massaged his stocking clad shin and calf tenderly; first one leg then repeated the treatment with the other. The way the sheer silk slipped between her fingers and his skin was galvanizing. He could feel tiny currents rushing up his nerves to his groin. 

As she moved further up his legs she pushed them further apart until his thighs were spread and she settled herself between them. He wanted to look over his shoulder so badly, but couldn’t because of the way she had arranged him. All he could do was feel what she did to him. Never before had he been this vulnerable, this much at someone’s mercy, and it turned him on like never before.

His skin was so hot, her hands felt cool as she pushed the satin slip up to reveal his black lace clad buttocks. 

“Oh...” she breathed and he could imagine her hungry gaze taking him in. “Have I ever told you what a luscious arse you have?” 

The lusty admiration in her voice caused him to grind himself involuntarily against the bed. 

“None of that, you naughty boy.” She scolded gripping handfuls of his lush buttocks greedily to stop his rutting. He felt her hands take the bottom edges of the panties and pull them up until they bunched up into the crease between his cheeks. She continued to tug them so that his engorged prick and scrotum were trapped in the tight stretchy lace, while it rubbed against his perineum and sensitive arsehole. 

The experience was not quite comfortable for Sherlock and as he was processing it, she pushed against his inner thigh so that his leg moved further up, exposing him even more. And then the warm wetness of her tongue pressed against him through the black lace. Molly was licking his balls, his perineum while giving him a fucking wedgie!  
“God, Molly!” He gasped. 

Her mouth was unrelenting, lips, teeth, tongue working at him, his sensitive inner thighs, the bottom of his scrotum, the crease between arse cheeks. The woman was driving him insane. “Molly, please...” he entreated, as her mouth paused to nibble on the gluteus maximus.

“I said I was going to devour you, didn’t I?” she explained then pulled the lace panties down to just below his bum. He could feel it pushing his buttocks up, displaying them for her. After, she pushed the slip up exposing his leanly muscled back, and continued to taste him taking strategic nips and licks up his spine until she once again lay atop him, her breasts flattened on his back, her knees pushing against his thighs keeping his legs wide apart and her hips snugly nestled into his bum. As her arms reached around his torso so that she could tease his nipples with her fingers, she began to thrust against him again and again grinding him into the mattress. He ached with need from the sensations that she set off both with her caresses and her lascivious encouragements. “God, you are so beautiful Sherlock, I want to fuck you into oblivion.” 

“Yes...”he hissed into the pillow. There was nothing in this world he wanted more than to be fucked right through this mattress by his Molly. Gnnnn.... he grunted exercising all his will to stop himself from coming all over the bed right there and then. 

“Hmm... so ready aren’t you my pretty.” Molly spoke against his nape as her hand grasped his stiff cock which had sprung out of its lace prison already wet with pre cum, and gave it a squeeze. 

“Ah... god ... please, Molly,” Sherlock begged shamelessly again.

After climbing off of him, Molly grabbed a handful of curls none too gently and pulled his head up. His mouth opened in expectation and was rewarded with hers. The taste of her intoxicated him anew. Her assault on his body left him both languid with desire and vibrating with pleasure. His mind was awash in a sea of endorphins and neuro-hormones, so he had no idea what to do with himself. Thankfully Molly was there to guide him. 

Soon he was on his back, her sweet mouth still doing unbelievable things to his. Only Molly could make him feel like this, so overwhelmed but in the best way possible. It was as if his whole body had become a conduit for the bliss of her touch. She pulled on his hair again exposing his neck so that she could explore it leisurely with her mouth. 

“I love the taste of you,” she mouthed against his collar bone after having pushed the slip all the way up to expose his chest, she then lifted herself away enough to whip off her top. Now they were skin to skin and her perfect breasts pressed on his chest pebbled nipples against pebbled nipples. 

“Umfff...Molly...” Sherlock wanted to touch her so, to take her in hand, to taste her, to lick her to make her twitch and rut and... “Fuck, woman, I need...”

“Is this what you need Sherlock?” she replied by putting her mouth on his chest and worrying at his nipple with her teeth. He bucked beneath her grabbing fistfuls of the pillow beneath his head, the combination of pain and pleasure was electric.

In the meantime her hands moved down his sides her nails digging into his lateral muscles then his abdominals stopping at his hips. His leaking erection throbbed between them, still partly trapped beneath the stretched lace panty, and every time her belly rubbed and pressed against him Sherlock groaned in wanton frustration. 

“You look so good like this Sherlock,” Molly’s voice caressed his overwrought senses; “you were made to be ravished by me weren’t you?”

He could do nothing but whimper in agreement, he lived to be debauched by his Molly, to have her show him how nothing was more important than to give her pleasure any way she chose. Especially so this time, every inch of his body thrummed with the intensity brought on by her ministrations. 

“Please, Molly,” he implored meeting her dark eyes with his, which he knew must be equally black with arousal. “Please fuck me. I can’t take much more... hmmmpf.”

“Oh my beautiful Sherlock, you’ve been so good,” she said after removing the torturous panties and as positioning herself so that she could lift his legs, which by now felt like they were made of jelly, at either side of herself. It seemed she also could not help herself, because she kept stealing nips and licks the inside of his knee then the bit of thigh exposed by the stockings which had miraculously still stayed in place. 

Then her wicked, wicked tongue traced a path from his perineum to his hip bone along his groin. “God, Molly...” he ground his teeth his hips jerking into the air. And then she was straddling him, a firm grip on his hard twitching cock holding it in place for her warm, wet cunt to slide onto. He sighed, the relief was palpable, until she started to move. Oh my god, she moved her hips minutely at first, just a ripple of muscle which sent the most exquisite rivulets of light to all his extremities. As her rocking increased, her hands came down on his chest to support herself. 

He wanted to join his hands with hers so badly and tried to do so, but her breathless “No.” Put him swiftly in his place. 

Molly continued to ride him, he loved how she arched so that her long hair spilled down her back and her beautiful breasts bounced. He tried to keep his eyes open as much as possible, he may not be able to touch be he could look his fill which only served to bring him closer to the brink. Bracing his feet on the bed, Sherlock bucked up matching Molly’s rhythm. The heat, the tightness of her vaginal walls surrounding him, sucking at his oh so hard cock battered at his senses. He tried to hold onto will as long as possible, he wanted to show his Molly how good he could be for her, but the battle was a losing one. 

From the moment he had pulled on the panties, to every time Molly’s cunt pulsed around his length, his body wanted nothing but to spill its seed inside her. “Molly, oh god, I need to come...” he panted. 

“Fuck Sherlock, come for me,” she gasped her hand reaching between them to stimulate her clit. “I want your cum to fill me up.” 

Her crude raspy command was all he needed. Unable to resist any longer, he grasped at her hips with trembling hands and thrust himself up lifting her right off the bed. Words disappeared from his mind, only guttural animalistic sounds that may or may not have been her name spilled from his lips as everything that he was compressed into a white hot pinpoint at the very centre of his being. A white dwarf star that pulsed once then twice then burst into a supernova spilling all that he had, all that he knew, all that felt into the woman he loved above all else. 

It went on forever; he floated in a white fog of ecstasy until she was beneath him. Her arms and legs wrapped around him, her mouth teasing his while he growled deep in his throat even as his hips pumped into her and his prick throbbed inside her delicious cunt. 

After a while they managed to disentangle from each other and settled into more comfortable positions. Sherlock opted to rest his head Molly’s chest allowing her the opportunity to play with his hair and scratch his scalp if she so wished. He was ever so thoughtful that way. 

“So, I was made to be ravished by you, was I?” he inquired as his fingers drew soft circles on the silky skin of her belly.

“Yes you were,” she answered, “any objections my Beauty, want to safeword out?”

“No, not at all,” Sherlock sighed and let sleep take him as his Molly’s clever fingers massaged his scalp.


End file.
